


Precious Specimen

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Jenova's tentacles, M/M, Rape, dub-con, non-con, precious specimen, ukeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 05:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12205104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: All Sephiroth has is Hojo, and he abuses him thoroughly on the approximate anniversary day of his birth.





	Precious Specimen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YdrittE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YdrittE/gifts).



> I was enabled into writing this by YDrittE, but I am definitely going to hell for this one. XD Also, take a drink every time Sephiroth is described as a precious specimen or puppet.

The lights were so bright he recoiled, having woken up from his slumber. He didn’t know how long he was out, but he woke in a fit of coughs, forgetting that he could breathe in the mako chamber. A sinister smile floated in front of his vision and he recoiled, grasping for Masamune, but then he remembered where he was, that he was naked and without his precious blade.

His eyes adjusted to the light, their mako infused depths glaring at the plain brown eyes before him that held so much malice.

“Ah, my boy, you’re awake,” the man said, pushing his glasses up the slope of his sharp nose. The man regarded his naked form with reverence. He had never felt strange being naked in front of this man, as he had been so since as far back as he could remember, but somehow the way his eyes lingered made him curl up against himself in a fetal position within the glass tube of his prison.

“Today is a special day,” the man was saying, “My precious specimen, my Sephiroth.”

 _Sephiroth_ , he repeated in his mind. Yes, that was his name. He’d remembered when it was given to him. For years he’d just had the tattoo at the nape of his neck to identify him by. He didn’t know when it was given to him, but it indicated he was Jenova’s. _My mother’s_ , he thought. How he had desired her all these years to rescue him, but when he thought of her all that would come to him was a small imperceptible smile from the man called Hojo, the man who identified him as _his_.

He’d come to view the man as his father. He’d always tell Sephiroth that he was _his_. There was no mistaking the fact that he was bound to him, although he did not know how. He would have rathered Professor Gast had been his father, but Gast often spoke of Professor Hojo as his _creator_. He wondered briefly if he was ever born. His sword hand twitched, itching to hold his beautiful piece of fine steel. He vaguely remembered when he was given it, a symbol of peace between Wutai and Midgar. But Masamune would ravage Wutai. The Silver Demon of Wutai, he was named. Lord Godo Kisaragi was a proud man, but he was even prouder still. There was no stopping him. Professor Hojo and President Shinra made sure of it.

“How was your sleep?” Professor Hojo was asking him. He carefully recorded the metrics from the machines hooking him up to the monitors, reverently touching the page he’d been writing on, then he put the book away and started draining the mako chamber.

“I remember a woman,” Sephiroth said softly, “no, a monster,” he corrected. “She was obscured by machines, a great mask which housed an incredible power. I felt that power flood into me,” he recounted dreamily. He’d only been told his mother’s name—had never seen her, only heard the words “Jenova Project” in hushed voices. He knew he was not supposed to know, but he had enhanced hearing, and had taught himself how to read lips when he could not hear. It was useful. But he was still in the dark; Hojo had many secrets, secrets he would possibly never know.

“Your powers have grown exponentially higher in these few months,” Hojo was saying. “The highest increase for years,” he said. “I am proud.”

Sephiroth let that sink in for a few moments as the man came forward and unhooked him from the various machines that measured his life force. He belatedly found it odd that no other assistants were present. It was just Hojo, and as he weakly lay crumpled to the floor, he felt the man’s arms encircle him, lifting him up. How could he be so strong but so weak? He was still susceptible to whatever the scientist drugged him with, and it must have been pumped into the tube to make him sleep. He felt halfway in the sleeping and waking world now, dreamily letting the scientist carry him to a cot. He felt the scientist’s fingers linger as he placed him there and could do nothing to retaliate. Part of him thought it was wrong, while the other part said it was his right to do what he pleased with his precious experiment. That’s what it all boiled down to, didn’t it? He was merely an experiment, an extension of the man’s life work.

“It has been fifteen years,” Hojo was saying as he undid his lab coat and draped it to the side of the cot. “Fifteen years since the Jenova Project has started.” He wasn’t sure of his age, but fifteen banged around in his head and he thought “I am fifteen,” tasting the words on his lips. “That’s right,” Hojo said, caressing Sephiroth’s smooth wet hair, taking him by the cheek and slowly lowering his lips to Sephiroth’s perfect bow lips. Sephiroth, who had never kissed anyone in his short life, found his eyes widening slowly, but could do nothing to stop him. “My perfect specimen,” Hojo crooned.

Sephiroth had never thought of himself sexually, had never even imagined what his first kiss would be like. He was sheltered from the world, which was ironic, being that he would travel much in his short life. He had a fondness for Professor Gast, but he was not his equal. No one was his equal. He had a correspondence with a young teen in Banora, but Hojo had no idea about it, and he would probably keep it that way. Did he have feelings for that young boy? He certainly had never kept correspondence with anyone before.

Hojo was kissing him with more fervor now, and Sephiroth could do nothing to stop the scientist’s tongue from invading his mouth. It felt wrong, but he was easily overpowered. His sword hand twitched again and he used his hand to press against Hojo’s chest, fighting the medicine that was coursing through his body to do so. His arm was weak and he’d had to use a lot of strength to put up a fight, but Hojo kept kissing him. The man moved his hand off his cheek and used his hands next to unzip his black slacks. Sephiroth’s eyes watched in horror like it was some outer body experience. There were no pleasant memories to recall in such a situation, were there? He could think of Professor Gast, but he did not want to associate the man with the horror of what was happening. He weakly grunted into the man’s mouth and thought of his dream of the half-alien looking woman whose wings served as arms. He imagined her putting those wings around him and protecting him from Hojo, but it did not stop the man from producing a salve from his lab coat as he stretched over Sephiroth to reach it. He briefly wondered what it was for before the man slicked his fingers in it and positioned Sephiroth on the cot, his legs open and wide.  

Those fingers pressed inside him and hooked just so. It was such an alien intrusion that Sephiroth had nothing to compare it to. His mind supplied him with the dream again, this time affording him more details. The woman was a writhing mass of tentacles below the waist and had captured him in their embrace. He felt hot all over as Hojo scissored his fingers within him and felt phantom tentacles breech their way inside him. Tears slipped down his cheeks—he had no idea when the last time he’d cried was, but he remembered being a small boy crying for his mother as they hooked him to the many machines that would rule his life.

“Shh, my precious specimen,” Hojo was saying as he slowly started to fuck him with his fingers. Sephiroth had been a witness to the breeding Hojo did between certain species. Had seen the horrible birth of monsters. Most of them died in infancy. Some survived and would be tattooed with various numbers, especially if they were drugged up with the same chemicals Sephiroth was. His brothers and sisters, monsters. Was he created this way too? He’d always thought he was Hojo’s special specimen, his precious specimen. He was crooning it to him now. “My precious specimen” he was saying again, taking his fingers away. They had started to feel _good_ and Sephiroth whined when they were taken away, feeling empty and used. He was crying more, but Hojo unceremoniously pressed his hardened cock against Sephiroth’s lips.

“Suck, and don’t use teeth or you’ll be sorry,” the scientist was saying. He pushed into the teen’s willing mouth and let him gag on his thick cock, Sephiroth’s lips spread wide. In his mind the woman’s one drifting tentacle ravaged his mouth as the others filled his body. The fingers were suddenly there again and filling him, one, two, three of them. He felt incredibly full but could tell Hojo’s cock was thicker. The tears spilled down his cherubic cheeks as he sucked and made the scientist _moan_. “That’s it, my precious specimen, submit to me,” he groaned, extracting his cock from the warm chasm of Sephiroth’s mouth. Next he extracted his fingers and pressed with his hips against Sephiroth, his cock pressing against the boy’s entrance. Sephiroth looked up at the man, hiding behind his wet hair, his big green eyes catching the man’s obvious enjoyment. How long had he been thinking of him in this way? He suddenly felt very naked, his body on display. He thought he might be caught up in one big nightmare. He often had nightmares of teeth and claws and more human things. The wailing of children and mothers and god knows what else as he cut them down with his long sword. Was this his punishment?

Suddenly he cried out, hand tugging on Hojo’s tie as he was filled up with the man’s thickness. His hand curled around the tie and shook. His body was shaking uncontrollably though he was not cold—just the opposite—he was burning up. He felt so full, and then Hojo was pulling out almost all the way before driving back in. He felt torn wide. His legs wrapped around the scientist’s, quaking around him. Hojo grinned down at him and tipped his head up with two fingers on his chin, his grin only growing wider at the expression on his precious specimen’s face, the fear and wet eyes and his trembling body. His eyes were unfocused and so green, glowing softly with mako in the sterile light of the lab. He had _such_ pretty eyes, and so wide, the pupils blown open.

“Such a good little specimen,” he whispered, pulling Sephiroth into him, kissing him deeply, tongue exploring him, tasting himself there. He got off on the taste of himself within that hot little mouth. Sephiroth submitted to him easily, but his hand remained clutched to his tie even as Hojo rammed his cock into his body over and over, the cot trembling under the assault, squeaking with the force of the thrusts. Sephiroth could see in his mind’s eye the benevolent woman with the tentacles ravaging his body in much the same way. Had he dreamed this? Was this all a part of his nightmare?

Hojo was building up the pace, his thrusts growing quicker and more erratic. Sephiroth couldn’t help but cry out, releasing his hand from Hojo’s tie to grip the cot tightly with his fingers, his knuckles going white. He didn’t understand what was happening until the man grabbed his cock, which was soft up until this moment. He felt himself growing hard in Hojo’s hand at the stimulation, panting hard. He had never had a true erection before, and he felt his heat head south, his cheeks coloring as well. It felt good, being stroked like that, and Hojo’s fist was insistent, and he stroked over the sensitive head of his cock, making him pant harder.

“Unngh, it feels . . . good,” Sephiroth whimpered, surprised, and suddenly being filled with that throbbing cock inside him felt good too. He was being speared on it, and Hojo was angling for his prostate, rubbing against it. But he couldn’t get the thought of the probing tentacles out of his mind, imagining being split open on two of them roiling inside him, one pumping in his mouth. The thoughts made him even harder, and he didn’t know why. He was enjoying this against his own will.

“My precious little puppet,” Hojo groaned, sounding strained. His cock was throbbing more inside Sephiroth and Sephiroth could feel every little bit of the man’s cock, the curvature and how it sat inside him. Hojo paused a moment, breathing deeply through his nose as he tried to calm down, stroking Sephiroth, fingers sliding up the sensitive underside. Sephiroth shuddered and moaned loudly, eyes rolling into the back of his head at the feeling as he twisted his fist over his leaking cock. Hojo used the fluid that gathered there to lubricate his fist, making it feel even better. Sephiroth cried out and threw his head back, his hair spilling around his shoulders. Hojo grabbed a fistful with his other hand and tugged Sephiroth’s head back up. “Look at me while I’m fucking you,” he hissed. Sephiroth’s eyes, which had closed, opened slowly and took the look of the scientist in. He was biting his lip and now he was back to thrusting inside him, angling again for his prostate, which made him tremble in the man’s hands. His own cock was throbbing now, building toward something. He felt his pleasure mounting and thought he might explode. It scared him but excited him at the same time, and he panted open mouthed, eyes unfocused again, staring ahead of him, anything but at the scientist’s blissed out features, his glasses slipping down his aquiline nose.

“I’m close, my precious puppet,” he whispered in Sephiroth’s ear, his hot breath ghosting against the shell and then he was sucking and biting there and it felt so good. The man kissed a trail to his neck and he tilted his head, hair spilling around his hands as he gripped the cot. It felt so good having his neck bit, he felt his cock twitching in the man’s fist. And then he was pumping him faster, building up again. He felt himself start to tremble more, his cock twitching harder as stars suddenly appeared in his eyes and he came hard, come exploding from his spasming cock. Hojo grinned and kissed Sephiroth deeply as he rode the waves of his first orgasm, his body feeling even more sluggish. And with that, the scientist began to fuck him even more erratically, his hips slamming into him, the sounds of their joining echoing loudly in the lab.

“Here’s your prize, precious,” Hojo said in a strained voice as he slammed inside him one final time and came inside him, releasing his thick come inside the teen’s body. Sephiroth cried out at the feeling of being filled and turned his head away from the scientist, unable to look at him. He felt more shameful tears spilling down his cheeks in automatic reaction, unable to stop himself from weeping openly, crying out like a lost little boy.      He wasn’t sure how to feel except ashamed. Hojo was pulling out of him, and his fist left his poor spent cock as it dropped against his stomach to the side. It was no longer trapped between their bodies, and continued to twitch a little in the after effects. Sephiroth hardened himself and wiped futilely at his eyes and nose, determined to get control of himself. He pulled his legs up against his chest on the cot, covering his body up to the scientist, never wanting him to look at him again, but he knew it was useless. Whatever Professor Hojo wanted to do to him, he would. He was powerless against the man. He could defeat whole armies, but this one singular man could destroy his heart.

“Clean yourself,” Hojo was saying. He hadn’t noticed him come back but the man was offering him a wet towel, which he used to clean off the shameful evidence of their union. Hojo offered him his clothes and Sephiroth dressed himself in his leathers, cloaking himself once again, and feeling better now that he wasn’t naked. He felt more strength returning to him now, able to move and shift on the cot and stand slowly, still feeling like the man was inside him. It hurt, pulsed.

“You may leave,” Hojo told him coldly, already focusing on some project he was engrossed in. Sephiroth stood to his full height, towering over the man now.

“My sword,” Sephiroth said woodenly as his sword hand twitched. The thought of the warm embrace of angel wings persisted in his mind. At least in that nightmare he had felt enclosed in an embrace. Hojo was cold, but she . . . her embrace was everything. It would get him through this Hell.

“Ah yes,” Hojo said, waving his hand dismissively toward the sword propped up against the wall. Sephiroth walked over to his sword and briefly thought of impaling the scientist on it. The thought disturbed him. Hojo was all he had, sadly. The thought hurt him. The fact that all he had was this mess of a man—vastly inferior to Professor Gast, hurt him deeply. Deep down, he thought of him as his father. To think that this man had taken something so vital from him, something he had never considered the importance of in his short life, truly wounded him. He sheathed Masamune and left the labs, leaving to seek out his apartment. Once there he stripped and got into the shower, turning to water heat to boiling. It felt cleansing as it burned his skin. On his way in, he’d received a package. He tied a towel around his waist and went to his desk where he’d deposited it and opened it. There he found a copy of _Loveless_ , which the teen Genesis who had been writing to him had been quoting in his letters.

He set it aside and sighed. His eyes swept across the tight frilly script of the boy, catching the words “we’ve been accepted into Third Class” and seeing the picture that accompanied it of both Genesis and his friend Angeal grinning in their uniforms.

Sephiroth sighed. Were these really his friends? Did he really have someone besides Professor Hojo? His hand trailed over the photograph and he became pale as a ghost. He wanted it so badly he was trembling again. Sephiroth had never had friends.

He stood from his desk and combed out his wet hair on his bed, returning the implement to his bedside drawer before slipping into his bed and tried to get the thought of Hojo out of his head, instead drifting off to the benevolent woman’s touch. He imagined her as his goddess, and that was his gift. In the end, he fell into a dreamless sleep, grateful to have his mind blank.


End file.
